


My Champion

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Drama, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Erotic Couplings, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-25
Updated: 2007-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:59:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: If Albus ever loved someone, it would have been someone like Elizabeth. This is their story.





	1. Chapter 1a--Elizabeth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

**_ My Champion _ ** **** ****

**_Elizabeth Princeton Dumbledore, 1850-1945_ **

**_Albus Dumbledore, 1846-1996_**    

Author’s Note:

 

During the course of the Harry Potter books, JK Rowling informed her readers that Albus Dumbledore was about 150 years old.  I took that from HBP and subtracted to get a birth year of 1846.  We don’t have a more exact date.  Because of the normally longer lifespan of witches and wizards over that of Muggles, I have slowed down the aging process for magical folk after they pass adolescence.  Muggle years of age and magical years of age do not parallel after witches and wizards reach adulthood.

 

We know much about Dumbledore’s life.  Elizabeth is an original creation, but if Albus loved someone, I imagine it was someone like her.

 

Albus, Filius, the Potters, Weasleys, and Thomases, as well as Grindelwald and the whole magical world are creations of JK Rowling.  I am honored to be given the privilege of time in their company, and neither receive nor require further compensation.  Elizabeth is mine, but really, she belongs to Albus, and he to her, so she has my permission to remain in Rowling’s world.

 

 

 

     **Part One- Elizabeth**    _Elizabeth Princeton, 1861 age 11_   

 

Reporters are so disingenuous.  Without exception, the first question they ask me is, “Where did you learn to duel like that?”  For one thing, that question betrays a total lack of understanding of dueling as a sport.  Even the Daily Prophet’s sports reporters (with one notable exception) don’t have the brains to ask me about my modifications of the Chiswick technique or the strategy I used in the match against Van Tassell last year.  Don’t even get me started on idiots whose first question after we won our first World Cup in the partners’ division was whether Filius and I were a couple.  Because, you know, you can only duel with someone if you’re shagging them, apparently.  As if that weren’t bad enough, the second question was whether I’d ever considered playing professional Quidditch.  I like a good Quidditch match as well as the next witch, but there are other sports, and I happen to excel at one of them.  Honestly.  The only reporters you can count on to know anything about dueling are from Russia and Greenland, where it’s usually too cold for Quidditch and they pay more attention to indoor sports.

 

Besides the general idiocy implied in the question about where I learned to duel like this, I’ve never been quite sure how to answer it.  Part of me always wants to go into a rant about how many years of practice, how many hours a day you have to drill, how much study is involved.  I mean, you don’t just learn to duel like it were that easy.  But I don’t rant, of course.  I eventually settled on a lame and non-committal, “A friend introduced me to dueling when I was a child, and I’ve loved it ever since.”  

 

Smile for the camera, everyone’s happy.

 

Even as I say it, I sigh inwardly.  He wasn’t just a friend.  The young wizard who taught me to duel was the crush of my childish heart, the hero of my dreams.  I didn’t know it when he taught me, or even when I grew up to duel professionally, but Albus would grow up to become the love of my adult life, too.  And he didn’t just “introduce me” to dueling, the great prat.  He tried to show me up, so what could I do?  He had this idea that since I was younger, since I hadn’t been to school, he had a right to beat me in a duel.  So, I worked and worked so that the next time he came home from Hogwarts, I’d be every bit as good as he was.

 

I wasn’t as good as he was, of course, owing mostly to the fact that I wasn’t allowed to use magic out of school.  But I did study every spell, charm, hex, and countercharm Albus ever taught me.  It drove my parents crazy, because half the time when I was supposed to be doing my regular studies or my farm chores, I was out by the pond pretending to duel.  I used sticks I picked up in the woods on the edge of our farm, I fashioned myself a holster for these pretend wands, and I was, American gunfighter-style, the fastest draw in the west.  Or at least, in the general vicinity of Ottery-St.Catchpole.  Of course, I had to keep that secret, because the Muggles weren’t supposed to know I was a witch, and nobody but Albus would have cared anyway.  Not that Albus cared, not then.  He was twelve, and I was eight, and I was no more than a bothersome child to him.

 

But I lived for the holidays and the summers, when he would come home.  He always came to see me on the first day, he never made me wait.  I knew he had other friends he saw over the holidays, but he always had time for me, and he always had something new to teach me.  He wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of school either, but he did know a lot of spells, and he taught me everything he learned in four years of Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts.  He liked to pretend it was an inconvenience for him to teach me, but it wasn’t, and even then I didn’t take him seriously.  He loved to teach, even when he was a teenager and his only student was an annoying child.  

 

By the time it was my turn to go to Hogwarts, his thick auburn hair was getting long, and he refused to cut it, because everyone knew all the great wizards had long hair.  He was going to grow a beard, too, as soon as his facial hair started coming in.  I would always giggle when he said that, because at fifteen Albus was tall and gangly, but his face was smooth as a baby’s.  Sometimes I would catch him examining his chin in his mother’s mirror, looking for traces of the long-awaited beard.  By the time he graduated Hogwarts, they still hadn’t shown up.

 

That first trip to Hogwarts was an adventure for me.  Trains were still so new to England, and Albus thought they were a silly way for witches and wizards to travel.  I couldn’t wait, though.  Even if it meant getting all the way to London, I was excited.  You couldn’t Floo directly back then, either, so it was a long trip in and out of fireplaces, some of them belonging to total strangers, with our trunks pulled and pushed along with us.  I had left my parents at home on our farm, which was scary because I had never been on my own without them before.  Actually, I had never traveled past the boundaries of Ottery-St. Catchpole before, either.  

 

I was traveling with Albus and Aberforth, and our three trunks were hauled in and out of people’s living rooms and kitchens, until finally we were spit out of the green flames into an office stuffed way back in the corner of the station.  From there we had to haul those trunks a distance of what seemed a mile, then through the brick wall and finally onto the train.  Aberforth left us as soon as we were in sight of the train; I don’t think he ever did speak more than a dozen words to me in the whole time I knew him.  Now that I think of it, I wonder why he was returning for his sixth year.  As far as I knew Aberforth wasn’t interested in school.  I always thought he preferred to be with his goats.

 

I watched Aberforth walk away through the crowd, but I felt quite safe, because I was with Albus.  I took a minute to gaze at the huge scarlet steam engine; Albus had told me about it, of course, but I was from the country and had never seen anything like it.  I turned to say something to him, I can’t even remember what, but to my alarm he was gone.  I couldn’t see him anywhere.  He hadn’t left with Aberforth, but he wasn’t with me, either.  I could feel my lip quiver, and I immediately bit down on it.  _Don’t be stupid,_ I told myself firmly.  _The train’s right in front of you; you can just get on it and you’ll be fine._   I was trying to be brave, but it was hard; everything and everyone seemed so big and loud, quite unlike the country.  Then I remembered that I could probably levitate my trunk if I had to, because Albus had taught me the spell, and that cheered me up a bit.  It didn’t even occur to me that I had never actually done the spell.

 

I heard shouting coming from the midst of the crowd a few feet away, and I looked over to see that people were backing away from something.  I left my trunk and hurried forward, and sure enough, there was Albus, in the middle of the crowd.  His overgrown auburn hair was blown back in the breeze, and his blue eyes seemed to be glowing.  He was face to face with another boy, a boy even taller than he was, with long blond-white hair.  Between them stood a very tiny boy, even smaller than me, with tears streaking his dirty face.  The blond boy was holding a small money bag in his fist.

 

“I said give it back, Malfoy,” Albus said calmly, resting his hand on the small boy’s shoulder.  

 

“Go back to the country, Dumbledore,” said the boy called Malfoy.  “This is none of your business.”

 

“This boy is half your size,” Albus pointed out reasonably.  “Where’s the honor in that?”

 

The pale boy sneered at him.  Albus raised an eyebrow, flicked his wand, and the money bag flew out of Malfoy’s hand.  Albus caught it in midair.  Turning to the small boy, he handed him the bag and said, “Are you all right, Filius?”

 

The boy sniffled and nodded.  “Y-yes, sir.”  He stuffed the money bag in the pocket of his robe.

 

Albus laughed.  “You don’t have to call me sir, Filius.  I’m only a Prefect, not the Headmaster.”  He ruffled the boy’s hair and said, “Come with me.  There’s someone I want you to meet.”

 

Without another glance at Malfoy, he led Filius through the crowd toward where I was standing.  But right at that moment I saw a flash of movement behind him and I knew that Malfoy was coming after him.  I don’t know what made me do it; I guess I was just angry that anyone would think about attacking my Albus.  I screamed like a banshee and ran, pushing past Albus and Filius until I reached Malfoy.  I doubt he even saw me coming; he was pretty tall.  I jumped on him and pummeled him with my fists and kicked every part I could reach.

 

“You leave him alone!  You leave him alone!”  I screamed and punched and kicked, tears of outrage streaming down my face, pushing him back and back under the onslaught, until I finally was pulled away by the back of my new black robes.

 

“All right, Elizabeth,” Albus said calmly, bending low to speak soothingly in my ear.  “It’s all right.  Get out of here, Malfoy,” he added, nodding at the other boy, “unless you want me to let her go again.”

 

Malfoy’s friends all laughed, but Malfoy scowled and strode off into the crowd.  I would teach his grandson, Abraxus, a long time later, and I’m afraid I would always have trouble not hating the little git.  But at the moment I was crying my eyes out, and Albus knelt down next to me and said very gently, “My champion.  You’re so brave.  Are you all right?”

 

I took a few shuddering breaths and nodded.  He thought I was brave.  I was his champion.  My heart swelled with pride, and I managed a small smile for him.  To tell you the truth, at that moment, I could have managed to pull down the moon if he had asked me to.  

 

“Come on, then,” he said to me, and to the other boy, Filius, whom I had forgotten was still there.  “You two can sit in my compartment with me, all right?”

 

We nodded gratefully and followed along in the wake of his billowing robes.  He led us to a compartment, then helped us heft our trunks up onto the shelf over our heads.  

 

“Oy, Dumbledore!” came a voice from the doorway.  We all looked over.  Albus grinned and his blue eyes sparkled.  There in our compartment stood two boys, identical twins.  They were tall and thin and absolutely covered with freckles.  Their hair was the brightest orange I’ve ever seen on a human being, before or since, and their mischievous brown eyes sparkled behind wire-rim glasses.

 

“Hello!” Albus said cheerfully.

 

“Who’re the midgets?” said the other twin, jerking his head toward us.

 

I put my hands on my hips and scowled, little Filius flushed, but Albus just said, “This is Elizabeth.  She’s from our neck of the woods.  And this is Filius.  Malfoy was trying to steal his money bag.”  He turned to Filius and me and said, “This is Charles and William Weasley.”

 

“Hullo, midge,” said one of them, holding out a hand to me.  “Call me Will.  This is Chuck,” he added, jerking a thumb toward his twin.  I wondered at the time if I’d ever learn to tell them apart, though it turns out I did eventually.  As they shook hands with Filius and with me, Filius stuttered with awe while I tried to pretend I conversed with nearly grown boys every day.  I supposed I did, if one counted Albus, but it didn’t occur to me until that minute that Albus was actually the only boy I knew.

 

Albus had to go to the Prefects’ car for the beginning of the trip, and he left Filius and me in the care of the Weasleys.  They put us at our ease and made us laugh, and introduced us to the several friends who stopped by, some staying to visit.  By the time Albus got back, our car was full, and Filius and I were rather squashed into one corner.  Still, we weren’t overlooked.  Several of the older boys had heard about the confrontation with Malfoy, and came over to congratulate me.  

 

“Julius Malfoy’s a right old git,” one of them said.  “Make Albus show you some good hexes for the next time he gets out of line.  He won’t stand a chance.”

 

I stammered and blushed as much as Filius had done before, but looking back, it was amazing how readily these older boys accepted the presence of two “midgets” in their car.  I know now that that was Albus’ influence; he just seemed to bring out the best in people.

 

It was growing dark and the gas lights had just come on.  Will and Chuck were telling stories about playing Quidditch in their orchard and getting yelled at by their mum, making us all laugh, when the door slid open.  A girl stood there, framed in the doorway.  Everybody looked up, and all the talking stopped.  Several of the boys dropped whatever they were holding.  I could tell she knew exactly what effect she had on all these stupid boys by the way she was posing, like they were going to paint her portrait.  She had golden hair and blue eyes, and while she was petite, she had assets under her robe that I certainly didn’t have under mine.

 

But this beautiful girl only had eyes for my Albus.  “You haven’t congratulated me for making Head Girl, Albie,” she pouted.  Her lips were very pink.  I was sure she used glamour on them, and I called her the worst names I could think of inside my head, all the while wishing I knew the spells to make myself look pretty like that.

 

Albus flushed, and the other boys snickered.  I tensed and started to stand up, but Will laid a hand on my shoulder, because he could tell that I was getting ready to do to this girl exactly what I had done to Malfoy. Albus, for his part, shook his hair back and affected a nonchalant look.

 

“Hello, Griselda,” he said charmingly.  He always was too charming for his own good.  “Congratulations on making Head Girl.  Headmaster Black could not have made a better choice.”

 

And he bent his head and kissed her hand.

 

 “I’m going to be a dueling champion,” I said loudly, struggling against Will’s firm hand.  Everybody turned to look at me, so I crossed my arms in front of me and pretended to be talking to Filius.  “You just wait, Filius, I’m going to be the best and the fastest, and then I can hex anybody who is bad, or anyone I hate, like that Malfoy, or like…”  I lost my nerve here, and my face flooded with heat, so I just mumbled, “…anybody bad at all…”

 

The boys laughed, and Griselda the Head Girl giggled in a stupid manner. Albus turned back to her.  “Shall we patrol the corridors together?”  He offered her his arm and they left together.  

 

He didn’t even look back at me.  I looked down at my knees, my face burning.  I guess I had embarrassed him, but why did he have to go acting like an idiot around ugly old Griselda?  Why wasn’t he ever charming to me?  The boys in the compartment continued their conversations again, while I sniffled pathetically.

 

A few moments later I felt the seat beside me sink down.  A hand touched my chin gently, forcing me to look up at him.  It was a black-haired boy named John.  

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said kindly.  “He always acts a bit stupid around Griselda Marchbanks.  But next year she’ll be gone, and you’ll have grown up a bit, won’t you?”

 

I smiled, grateful to this kind boy.  These older boys I was meeting, plus Filius, of course, would become some of my best friends, and I would have most of them for my whole life.  Sort of my honorary older brothers.  But I did develop rather a crush on John Potter that day.

 

“I’m going to be a dueling champion, too,” Filius announced in his squeaky voice.  Apparently he had considered it and found it to be a good idea.  

 

John grinned and rubbed Filius’ hair.  “Sure you will,” he said.  “You two can be partners and be the best duelists in the world.”  He turned back to his conversation with the Weasleys and a dark-skinned boy with the funny name of Thomas Thomas.

 

Filius and I talked for the rest of the trip about our careers as dueling champions.  He had a Muggle dad and grew up around Muggles, which meant he didn’t know very many charms, so I taught him the ones that Albus had taught me.  We got out our new wands, causing the older boys to look alarmed.  

 

“Oy, midge!” Will said, laughing.  “You want to watch where you point that thing!”  The rest of the boys laughed, too; these boys were always laughing.  It made Filius and me feel like we belonged.

 

We only saw Albus again at the end of the trip.  His job was to help the first-years off the train, which he would have done anyway, of course, being Albus.  A grown-up met us at the station calling, “First years!  First years follow me!”

 

Albus gave me a little nudge.  “Go on, he’ll take you over.  I’ll meet you there.”

 

Apparently he had forgiven me.  That was fine, but I wasn’t sure I had forgiven him, and if I had known that wasn’t the last of stupid Griselda I would have made more of an effort to hold my grudge.  Filius and I followed the teacher, who indicated we should get into the rowboats waiting at the docks.  We did, and I reached for oars, out of habit mostly, because I was quite used to rowing on our pond at home.  But there were no oars; the boat just took off by itself, along with the others, across the very dark lake.  The water was rough and choppy, and I could tell that Filius was a bit nervous about going so fast, but I wasn’t.  I was brave.  Hadn’t Albus said so?

 

“Honestly, Filius,” I said in a superior tone of voice.  “If you’re going to be a dueling champion, you can’t be afraid of every little thing!”

 

He gulped, then nodded.  We continued to speed along the surface of the lake—how big was this lake, anyway?  Finally, we changed directions a bit, and saw it.  Hogwarts Castle loomed up and up in the darkness, lights glowing in every window and reflected on the water.  I’ll never forget my first sight of it; I don’t think anyone ever does.  

 

We docked beneath the castle and climbed out clumsily.  Several students ended up trailing their robes in the water, but Filius and I managed to stay dry.  I had decided that Filius was going to be my best friend, besides Albus.  I never knew what Filius thought of this decision; probably that it was easier to let me have my way than to argue with me.  He was always saying things like that.  Anyway, he was my best friend from that day on.  

 

I had also decided that we were both going to be sorted into Gryffindor, which was the best house.  I didn’t know anything about the houses, but I knew that Albus was in Gryffindor, so that was the best.  And it was the one for brave people, and that was me.  

 

But that part didn’t work out the way I wanted it to.  When the deputy headmistress called out, “Flitwick, Filius,” and he scrambled up on the stool, the hat took just a beat and then said clearly, “Ravenclaw!”

 

Filius gave me an apologetic look as he hopped down and ran to the Ravenclaw table, where they were clapping for him.  When it was finally my turn, I did get sorted into Gryffindor.  I was sad that Filius couldn’t be with me, but I was quite cheered by the sight of Albus and the other boys clapping so enthusiastically.

 

We ate a wonderful feast on golden plates, then the headmaster stood up.  He was handsome in a sort of wicked way, with long dark hair and a curly goatee.  He wore lavish green and silver robes, and I could see the emeralds catch the light of the candles when he moved.

 

“Good evening, students,” he said in a bored, nasal voice.  “I am your Headmaster, Phineas Nigellus Black, of the noble and most ancient house of Black.  I suppose that since it is September we must allow you back in the castle.  Pity.  Children are disgusting creatures, and while it is appropriate to quarantine you away from the general public, it hardly seems fair to inflict you upon your betters.  Nevertheless, we are trapped here together for the next ten months, while the law requires that my staff try to fashion you into less hopeless cases.  Try not to make too much trouble for us, won’t you?  Now, to bed with you.”

 

I thought that was the rudest speech I had ever heard, and thought I saw some of the teachers glaring at the Headmaster, but when I looked around the older students were just rolling their eyes.  I shrugged, assuming they must be used to it.  Albus called for the first year Gryffindors, and I followed him toward the back of the Great Hall.  I caught Filius’ eye and waved at him, and at the same time Griselda Marchbanks waved at Albus.  Albus tossed his hair back and strutted toward the doors with the first years in tow.  Filius and I rolled our eyes at each other across the hall, and Filius did an outrageous fancy-girl walk in imitation of Griselda, making me laugh out loud.  That set another pattern for the future; Filius could almost always make me feel better.

 

Some of my classes were pretty interesting.  Defense Against the Dark Arts was my favorite, because I had really taken to the idea I had blurted out on the train, that I was going to go after bad people.  Maybe even vampires or werewolves, though Filius didn’t think that sounded like a good idea at all.  But I sometimes think, if things had been different, maybe I would have been an Auror.  Charms was good, too, because we learned how to do a lot of practical magic, and it gave Filius and me a way to show off, even if it was only to each other.  Charms was always Filius’ favorite, and he was usually the best in the class.  We had a lot of fun in that class, too, because the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws usually had it together.

 

In the evenings I would sit with Albus and his friends in the Gryffindor common room.  Classes were easy for me because Albus had taught me almost everything already, and if I didn’t already know something, I wasn’t inclined to put myself out to study it.  I liked to listen to the boys talk, and it wasn’t until later that I realized that what I was learning the most about on those evenings was…boys.  I learned that all of the gang except Albus was on the Quidditch team, but even boys who weren’t on the team could quote every player’s record and every team’s statistics, and tell you exactly how long it had been since a given team had won the House Cup.  Albus and I sat together at Quidditch matches, and Albus would murmur statistics for the different players as they flew by, and give me commentary on the different maneuvers and strategies they used.  John, he told me, had been on the team since their first year, the youngest Seeker in a century at the time, and I cheered him loudly at every game.  John told me later that he started listening for my cheers, and he always tried to do well so he didn’t let me down.

 

In any case, by listening in on their conversations, I learned about the things they were studying, and I could understand a lot of it, because I already knew so much.  That was fine with me, too, because I didn’t really like to study—not like Albus did.  Albus actually refused to try out for Quidditch because it would take away from his studying time.  I just studied as hard as I had to in order to prove to Albus that I was as good as he was at anything.

 

Of course, I still wasn’t as good as Albus.  I learned that the hard way at the first meeting of the dueling club.  I was so ready, I had practiced all my moves, and now I was going to get to do them with a real wand.  Filius and I were paired up, and I managed to disarm him every time, which just confirmed what I already thought about my skills.  Feeling cocky, like I already was a dueling champion, I ran to find Albus.  He was dueling with Griselda, who was actually pretty good, but not as good as he was.

 

“Albus!” I panted, running up to him.  “I—I challenge you!”

 

Never mind that he was the brightest student in the school.  Never mind that all I had ever done was disarm a boy even smaller than me.  I was ready.  

 

Griselda pouted at my taking Albus’ attention away from her.  I smirked.  Albus looked down at me.

 

“All right, Elizabeth,” he said.  “Mark your paces.”

 

I counted ten paces away from him and turned, ready to disarm him, when my wand flew out of my hand.  I ran after it, then did one of my gunslinger moves, but he disarmed me again.  I ran again, then sent the spell back at him.  This time his wand flew out of his hand, but it was so obvious that he let me do it that it wasn’t satisfying at all.  

 

I suppose he read the frown on my face, because he called me over to him.  “Look,” he said patiently, squatting down next to me and shaking his shaggy auburn hair out of his eyes.  “You waited too long after you turned.  The spell has to be out before the turn is complete, or you risk getting hit first.  Understand?”

 

I nodded.  I was sulking about losing, but what he was saying made sense.  “I’ll beat you next time,” I said.  In fact, I wouldn’t beat him until his seventh year, when I had already begun to do well in tournaments.  He really could have been great if he had wanted to. The thing about Albus is that he was a born leader, but he was never competitive.

 

He stood and squeezed my shoulder, then turned as Griselda took his arm.  He had forgotten me already, but it didn’t hurt as much as before, because now I had something new to teach Filius.

 

Filius and I practiced every day.  I was the more aggressive of the two of us, and he was the more creative.  He was so good in Charms, he could think of something creative for any situation, when I tended to just pound him with the same old standards.  But we learned from each other.  He tended to be too timid and I tended to be too predictable, so we knew how to strengthen each others’ weaknesses.  I always said that together we made the perfect duelist.  Every time dueling club met, Albus taught us something new, always something useful.  I don’t think either Filius or I would have gotten as good as we did without that early coaching from Albus.

 

Looking back on it now, I expect he just showed us something new so that we’d then go off and practice it and leave him alone with Griselda.  Well, I don’t know.  Like I said, Albus was a natural teacher, so I don’t think he really minded.  But I always think of it when the reporters ask me how I got so good.  I’m willing to give credit where it’s due.  I wouldn’t be what I am today if it weren’t for Albus Dumbledore.

 


	2. Chapter 1b--Albus

**Part One- Albus**   _Albus Dumbledore-- 1864-- age 18_

      

I believe now that I was waiting for her.  We were four years apart, and four years is a world of difference when we are children.  Elizabeth was still a child when I was growing into a man.  In any case, I liked to believe that I was becoming a man.  

 

I looked forward to seeing her on holidays and during the summers.  I see now that she was good for my sense of self-worth (not that _that_ needed much help in those days); she always listened to what I had to tell her, she asked questions, and she always seemed glad to see me.  

 

She told me a long time later that she credits me for her interest and success in dueling, but I must disagree.  She was obviously naturally talented, and it gave me great pleasure to offer her little hints on how to improve.  It was quite satisfying to see her run and tell Filius everything I would teach her.  I didn’t get the privilege for very long; by the time she was fourteen, she could defeat me or anyone else in the school except Filius.  Often she could defeat him, too, just by being more aggressive.  Or simply more stubborn. 

 

She was my champion.  I don’t think she ever realized how closely I followed her career in those years we were apart.  And every time she told a journalist that a boy she knew had introduced her to the sport, I knew she meant me, and I would carry the knowledge close to my heart for days.

 

At first, when we were growing up in the countryside around Ottery-St. Catchpole, I simply regarded her as the sister I never had.  As the younger brother, it was novel and gratifying for me to have someone younger to whom I could impart my wisdom.  I considered myself very wise in those days.  Much wiser than I am now, I’m afraid.  I do recall, however, the day I began to look at her differently.  

 

It was her first day at Hogwarts, and my first day as a Prefect.  I took my responsibilities very seriously indeed, and when I saw Julius Malfoy picking on that little tiny boy, I intervened before I even thought about it properly.  Fortunately, the situation was diffused fairly effectively; that was, at least, my estimation of events.  Apparently, however, Julius didn’t concur.  He attempted to continue our discussion while my back was turned.  Elizabeth saw him coming and attacked him.  She was rather violent, but she was so small that she did him no real harm.  I think Julius was more shocked than hurt; in any case he gave me little trouble for the rest of the day.

 

I remember I called her my champion.  Nobody had ever stood up for me before; it was usually I who stood up for others.  She had so much heart, so much courage, at such a young age, and she offered it to me.  I remember thinking that she was going to be an amazing woman someday.  I have seldom been so right.  

 

I did not intend to hurt her by courting Griselda Marchbanks.  Indeed, Griselda and I were simply enjoying each other’s company.  But Elizabeth was too young, and I was a healthy young man.  I sensed that someday Elizabeth and I would be important to each other, but when one is sixteen, someday seems very far away.  I do not regret my time with Griselda; in fact Griselda and I have enjoyed each other’s company regularly over the course of the years.  She was always a good student, and was hired almost straight out of Hogwarts by the Wizarding Examinations Authority, so she returned to Hogwarts at least once a year.  The first time she came back was my own N.E.W.T. year.  Somehow she arranged to be my examiner in Transfiguration and Charms.  I’m afraid that from the position of authority that I hold now can I see that we spent much of the examination time in clear violation of several significant laws.  

 

As you see, I did, indeed, have moments of impetuousness in my youth.  

 

Later, much later, Griselda would come for the exams and stay an extra night.  I have fond memories of Griselda, and the utmost respect for her work, so I would not have anyone speak ill of her.

 

But it was always Elizabeth who held that central place in my heart.  There was a long time when she and Filius were on the road; on the tournament circuit.  And when they weren’t competing they were giving seminars, or traveling around the world to train Aurors and other law enforcement officials.  She and Filius are entirely responsible for the dueling curriculum still being used by Aurors all throughout Europe.  They were a brilliant team, those two.  I was thrilled when they came to teach at Hogwarts, and pleased to take credit for bringing them there.

 

Elizabeth was finally able to best me at dueling when I was in seventh year.  She was only in third year, only just turned fourteen, and I was nearly eighteen.  I think I could have bested her if I had put my mind to it—perhaps if she had been trying to kill someone.  But even by then, her skills in that area equaled mine.  She never believed it, but she was much more than a world-class duelist.  She was a very powerful witch.  She never thought she was as powerful as I was, but she was mistaken.   

 

I was Head Boy that last year, and I hope I was a fair and effective leader.  I have no way of knowing if that’s true, of course; I can only assure myself that I did my best.  I was surprised by how reluctant I was to leave Elizabeth alone at Hogwarts.  It wasn’t that I didn’t think she could take care of herself; it was never that.  I don’t believe she ever understood that a man can feel protective of a woman without ever doubting her ability to take care of herself.  She was already an interschool champion at her level, and she and Filius had taken the grand prize for partners’ duels against students much older than they were.  

 

But she was still young in many ways, and she had never really been on her own before.  She worked so hard to prove herself, and the rare times she failed tended to depress her.  She would bounce back, of course, and work even harder, but I wanted badly to make her understand that there was room for fun and relaxation in life.

 

“But this _is_ fun and relaxing,” she would insist.

 

And I wanted to make her see that it was all right to fail every now and then.

 

“But _you_ never fail,” she would point out, as though that were obvious, or even true.  

 

I had in fact failed to notice what a lovely young woman she was becoming.  I had failed to understand that the distance between eleven and fifteen was significantly longer than the distance between fourteen and eighteen, which was what we were in my last year at school.  By the time I did realize it, the school year was over, and it was time for me to leave Hogwarts.  On that last day, we rode the Hogwarts Express back to London together, with the gang, as she called them, those young men who were as much her older brothers as they were my dear friends.  Dear as they were to me, I wished them all elsewhere during that train ride back to London.  They never afforded me any time to speak with Elizabeth alone, and before long I found myself standing next to her and two heavy trunks on the front steps of her parents’ farmhouse.

 

“Well, thanks, Albus,” she said brightly.  Her dark curls reflected the moonlight.  I shoved my hands in my pockets, because I didn’t know what to do with them.  I wanted to grab her and kiss her, but was afraid to do so.  I felt awkward, uncomfortable in my own skin, and that made me angry.  This was Elizabeth, my friend, the girl I had known her entire life!  Why should I feel awkward or afraid around her?

 

While this battle raged within me, I continued not to speak, being too tongue-tied to say anything sensible.  Faced with my continuing silence, she spoke again. “I suppose I’ll have to make the journey by myself in the autumn, won’t I?  That’ll be strange.  I’ll miss your company, yours and the gang’s.”

 

I looked down at my boots, and my hair fell into my face.  I shrugged it back; it was getting quite long at this point.  I was quite vain about it in those days.  “You still have Filius,” I said croakily, finally finding my voice.  

 

“Of course I do,” she said, as though I were being foolish.  She couldn’t imagine a time when she wouldn’t have Filius; it was like they were long-separated twins who had found each other.  “Just because I have one friend present doesn’t mean I won’t miss the one who’s absent.”

 

“Right,” I said, frowning.  I still didn’t know what to do with my hands; I slipped them out of my pockets and pressed my fingertips together in front of my mouth.  At that precise moment, I discovered a previously unknown loathing for the word “friend.”  I didn’t care for being referred to in the same manner she used to talk about Filius.

 

She was watching me.  For a girl who talked so much, she also observed a great deal.  “Wait here, Albus, all right?”

 

I nodded, causing my hair to fall in my eyes.  She grabbed up her trunk and dragged it into the house.  I heard her call, “Mum!  Dad!  I’m home!”

 

There were squeals and warm welcomes, and some murmured conversation.  A few minutes later she returned to the front step with a piece of parchment and a quill, with her little Scops owl sitting on her shoulder.

 

“Here,” she said firmly, “write to your mum and tell her you’re back and you’ll be home late.”

 

“Will I?” I asked, my mouth going a bit dry.  She smiled and nodded.  I did as she said, and she attached the note to the owl’s leg.  As it flew off into the night, she threw the quill back into the house and said, “Come on, then.”

 

And she took my hand.  

 

I was ashamed for a moment.  This girl, so much younger than me, was afraid of nothing, and I had been too afraid to hold her hand, to kiss her, to tell her that I was going to miss her.  But the feel of her hand, as we walked through the darkness of the farm, drove out any shame or fear.  In fact, I discovered that I was grinning quite a great deal.

 

“You never did tell me what you’ll do now, Albus,” she said as we walked the perimeter of the pond.  “Did you get accepted into Auror training?”

 

“Yes,” I said, distracted for a moment by my dilemma.  I found that I wanted to share it with her, to hear her thoughts on the matter.

 

“So what’s wrong?”  
  


“I also got accepted into Healer training,” I said, frowning.  “I’m not sure which I want to do.  And Mum wants me to go into the Ministry.”  I laughed ruefully at my poor mother, whose ambitions were well known to Aberforth and me.  As Aberforth wanted to do nothing at all, and I wanted to do everything _except_ go into the Ministry, it seemed that her ambitions to be the mother of the future Minister of Magic were destined to be thwarted.

 

Elizabeth laughed lightly and squeezed my hand. I stopped breathing for a moment.  “That is a tough choice,” she said.  “Which of those things can you see yourself doing all day every day?”

 

“Well, each of them has several different areas that interest me.  Each of them requires me to study further in Potions, which I always hoped to do, and Transfiguration, which particularly interests me…”

 

Elizabeth laughed louder this time and I stopped there at the edge of the pond, feeling confused and rather foolish.  “But Albus,” she said with affectionate exasperation, “at some point you have to stop studying and actually do something!  You can’t study forever!”  

 

“Study forever…” I breathed.  It was the most wonderful thing I had ever heard.  “I wonder…”

 

“No, Albus,” she said firmly, though she was still smiling.  “You can’t study forever.  You have to do something, and since you’ll be good at anything you try, you should do something you enjoy.”

 

“You know what I would enjoy?” I said, looking down into her hazel eyes.

 

She raised her eyebrows.  “What?”

 

“This,” I said, and bent my head to kiss her.  It was a clumsy line, to be sure, but it got me where I wanted to be.  I touched my lips to hers softly.  I could tell right away that this was her first kiss; she opened her lips hesitantly.  I moved my mouth across hers, and she responded to me, imitating my movements.  Her breath came more quickly, and I wrapped her in my arms and pulled her close to me.  She felt so good, so sweet, that I deepened the kiss, and she followed.  She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed herself against me.

 

I moaned and pushed her away from me.  She didn’t know what she was doing.  She was so innocent; she didn’t understand how a young man’s body would react to her.  How _my_ body would react to her.  I was far from innocent, thanks mostly to Griselda Marchbanks, so I had to be responsible.  

 

“I’m sorry,” I said, breathing quickly.  It was hard to read her face in the darkness.

 

She cocked her head and looked up at me.  “Why?”

 

I blinked.  Why did she always have to be so direct?  “I was taking liberties…”

 

She seemed to consider that for a moment.  “Is it still liberties if I wanted you to do it?”

 

“Er…I don’t know,” I said.  It had never felt like taking liberties with Griselda, who definitely wanted me to do it.  “I suppose not.”

 

“All right, then,” she said, her voice soft and cheerful.  “Do it again.”

 

I froze.  I couldn’t do it again.  I didn’t have that kind of self-control.  At the same time, I had never wanted anything more than to kiss her right then.  I ran a hand through my hair, nearly paralyzed by indecision.

 

As ever, Elizabeth faced no such dilemma.  She simply stepped up to me and stood on her toes, returned her arms to their position around my neck, and kissed me as I had kissed her.  I could not resist her; I returned her kiss with all the passion burning inside me, which, at that point in my life, was considerable.  Her passion was considerable, as well, and it pleases me to this day that I was the one to awaken it in her.

 

We did not consummate our passion that night.  That momentous event would not come for many more years.  But we did kiss a great deal, and learned whatever we could about each other’s bodies while still keeping our robes in place.  I seem to recall a great deal of rolling around in the grass near the edge of the pond.  

 

Eventually we broke apart and lay next to each other looking up at the stars.  I thought of Elizabeth as I glanced at her face in the moonlight, how she always stood up for herself, how she always protected others, even in the face of people who were bigger and stronger.  I remembered her declaring on that first train ride that she was going to fight bad people, and I thought I knew what I should do. 

 

“I’ve decided to become an Auror,” I announced.

 

“Good,” she said, turning to me and smiling.  “You’ll be great at that.”

   

I did, in fact, complete Auror training.  It was fascinating; I learned a great deal about defensive and offensive Transfiguration, Potions, and Charms.  I enjoyed every lesson, every new assignment, and I graduated at the top of my class.  My letters to Elizabeth must have been terribly dull; full of the new incantations and spells I was studying, even, I recall to my chagrin, long lists of potions I was learning.  During my three years of Auror training, Elizabeth and Filius were attending both interschool and exhibition tournaments.  They were too young, by law, to participate in international tournaments until they were seventeen.  Still, her summers were so busy with all her traveling that I seldom saw her.  We continued to exchange letters, but I began to keep company with other young ladies of my acquaintance.

 

While Auror training was interesting and rewarding, the actual life of an Auror was something else altogether.  It was, alternately, deadly dull and unnecessarily violent.  I kept getting in trouble when I tried to initiate discussions with criminals in order to avoid violence.  The department’s motto at that time was, I believe, “Curse first, ask questions later.”  I preferred to ask questions first; it simply made more sense to me.  How could we proceed intelligently unless we had all the necessary information?  Unfortunately, criminals often declined to engage in productive dialogue, preferring to use the opportunity to run away, and I soon found myself without employment.  

 

I then entered Healer training, convinced that I had made the wrong choice when I entered the Auror program.  This program was every bit as fascinating as the Auror program; I had not known, for example, that the Entrail-Expelling Curse could be reversed by the administration of a potion comprising a combination of sunflower seeds, newt eyes, and goat’s milk--

 

But I digress.

 

I lasted longer as a Healer.  I truly enjoyed helping people.  But I always felt we could be doing more to ease their suffering, so I spent a great deal of time experimenting in the Potions laboratory at St. Mungo’s.  Unfortunately, some of my most effective potions had unforeseen side-effects, and by the time of a certain legendary laboratory explosion, I was already, shall we say, on thin ice with my supervisors.

 

  _You’re determined to do it, aren’t you?_   Elizabeth wrote to me when I told her about my second failed career path.  _You’re determined to be a student forever.  You’d better come see me, Albus.  I have the European semi-final in_ _Romania_ _next weekend.  I’ll get you tickets.  Filius qualified, too.  Then we’re going to sit down and have a serious talk, you and I._

Suddenly I couldn’t wait to see her.  It had been too long, almost three years.  The last time I had seen her was the night she finished Hogwarts at the party her parents threw for her and Filius.  But again, we did not get a moment alone.  She had invited all of the old gang, as well, and at first it had been quite good to see them all again.  But then I noticed that John Potter was spending far too much time with Elizabeth— _my_ Elizabeth!—and that she wasn’t discouraging him at all.  In fact, they leaned toward each other and touched each other in an intimate way that made me understand that Elizabeth had not waited for me during these years apart any more than I had waited for her.  I realized that John had not been absent or inattentive during the four years in which I had been precisely those things.  

 

I tried to tell myself that she had every right to spend time with another boy, we had made no promises, but it did no good.  Reason seemed reluctant to penetrate my sense of betrayal at Elizabeth for taking up with someone else, and anger at myself for not being the one waiting when she was ready to take up with someone.  I had been gone, and John had been there, and I was angry and frustrated about the entire matter.  I seem to recall I left the party early and overindulged shamefully in a bottle of firewhisky.  

 

I had not spoken to her since, but suddenly I couldn’t wait to see her.

 

I had never attended one of her international tournaments before.  My jaw dropped as I sat in the crowd and watched her.  She moved so fast that she was nothing but blurry streaks, and she never stopped moving forward, so that her opponents were forced to retreat.  Filius had taught her a great deal about the creative use of charms, but her main tactic was still her assertiveness, and I watched with pride as she pushed her opponent inexorably toward defeat.

 

Later she and Filius competed in the partners’ events.  It was a thing of beauty; they must share a mind, those two.  Watching them duel, without seeming even to communicate at all, was like watching one thought in enacted in two bodies.  I was deeply impressed, and slightly envious.  She shared an intimacy with Filius that was crystal clear as they dueled, and I wondered if I would find myself once again too late to find a place in her life.

 

They stood on the plinth to receive the Cup from the referee, and it was announced that they had qualified for the World Cup competition.  The crowds cheered, and she and Filius hugged each other. Finally she climbed down from the stage and made her way to the locker room, where I stood waiting outside the door.  I was so proud of her, and at that moment, so in love with her, as she walked toward me through the crowd, that it was all I could do not to shove the crowd aside and grab her up in my arms.

 I had to smile, because when she saw me, _she_ shoved the crowds aside and threw her arms around _me_.  I closed my eyes and murmured, “My champion…”  She squeezed me extra hard, then let me go so I could shake hands with Filius.  He barely reached her shoulder now.  Elizabeth was now twenty-one, and I was twenty-five.    

I waited while she and Filius spent some time talking to reporters.  The two of them were becoming famous, the young stars of dueling.  They were responsible for the revival of dueling teams and dueling clubs all through Europe.  I understood the importance of taking time for reporters, but I was growing impatient and resented any attention she wasn’t giving to me.  Finally, the three of us pushed our way through the crowd, and escaped onto the street.  A moment later we entered the inn where Filius and Elizabeth were staying.

 

“Oh, my, it’s getting late,” said Filius, giving an exaggerated yawn.  “Long day, you know, best get to bed!”  With a wink at Elizabeth, he scurried up the steps, leaving us alone together.  

 

“Let’s go up to my room,” said Elizabeth, with no preamble.  “We can have food sent up.”

 

I followed her obediently.  I wondered at the propriety of being alone in her room, but when I realized she had already gotten in the shower, propriety became the least of my concerns.  She had promised we’d talk, and I wanted desperately to do so, but I was perilously close to being irreversibly distracted by the thought of Elizabeth in the shower.  I could hardly blame her for wanting to refresh herself; she was an athlete, after all.  But as I paced, I stopped in front of the bathroom door on each circuit of the room, telling myself that if she took any longer I would have to go in there to make sure she had come to no harm.

 

I had just laid my hand on the doorknob when the door flew open.  I jumped back, startled, and tried to pretend I hadn’t been lurking outside while she was naked on the other side of the door.  

 

“All right, Albus,” she said, giving me a knowing look as she came into the room. She was wearing a short dressing gown and drying her hair with her wand, exposing the length of those shapely, muscular legs.  My mouth went dry, and I collapsed into a chair, barely registering that she was speaking.

 

“Albus!” she snapped, and I glanced up from her legs with a guilty start.

 

“Er…yes, my dear?”

 

She simply smirked at me, knowing full well where my attention had been.  “I said, what’s next on your livelihood horizons?”

 

She looked young, with her hair wet and no glamour on her face.  I remembered rolling around in the grass with her all those years ago.  I’m afraid I quite forgot the question.  My mouth was quite literally watering now.

 

“Albus?” she said.  I blinked and looked back at her. “Work?”

 

“Oh, yes,” I said.  I was glad that I had an answer to her question.  “Yes, I have been thinking about that, and I believe that coming to Romania has inspired me.”

 

“And?”

 

“Dragons.”

 

“What?”  Her hair was dry, and she tied it back in a simple ribbon as she gave me an incredulous look.

 

“Do you remember that in Potions we learned that there are three primary uses of dragons’ blood?”  I asked, momentarily pulling my attention away from her bare skin.  Her mouth dropped open.  But I was very excited about this new prospect, so I jumped out of my chair and began pacing again.  “I’ve done some research on it, Elizabeth, and I don’t think that theorem’s correct.  I think that each of those primary functions could be broken down into three, perhaps even four, subsidiary functions, which are in fact so unique that one might be able to classify them as primary in themselves.” I frowned, thinking about it.  “Unless I’d have to go in the other direction and consider them tertiary functions.” I rubbed my little sprout of a beard, then shrugged.  “Anyway, rather than the three, there could in fact be as many as nine, or even twelve, primary uses of dragon’s blood, and I’d—what?”

 

Elizabeth was laughing and shaking her head.  She looked sad, somehow, but she was laughing.  “Oh, Albus,” she said, “how I’ve missed you.”

 

My heart sped up a bit.  “Have you?”

 

“Of course I have,” she said.  “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“I thought perhaps you had others to keep you company,” I shrugged, trying not to let bitterness creep back in.

 

“Of course I did,” she said in exasperation.  “That doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you!”

 

“Were you keeping company with John Potter?” I asked.  I couldn’t help it.  I was jealous, though I would never have admitted it at the time.  As Elizabeth would point out to me much later, that was quite unfair, since I had kept company with more than one young lady in recent years.

 

She grinned at me.  “For a while,” she said unapologetically.  “He’s good company.  You should write him.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He’s getting married,” she said, and she sounded rather wistful.

 

“Are you upset by that?” I asked, a bit afraid of the answer.

 

She shook her head.  “No,” she said.  “I’m happy for him.”  She was quiet for a moment.  “Albus?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Are you ever going to kiss me?”

 

“Yes,” I said hoarsely.  For a moment I couldn’t move.  I was frozen, like I had been that first night, with the force of so many desires.  But I knew her, and I knew she wouldn’t rescue me tonight.

 

I thought back to that first night, and remembered that I hadn’t even had the courage to hold her hand.  Perhaps I could rectify that now.  I took two steps toward her, and bent down and picked up her hand from where it rested on her thigh.  I used it to pull her to a standing position, and slowly, almost reverently, pulled her into my arms.  I rested my lips on hers and breathed in a moment of perfect closeness, perfect intimacy.

 

Her hands slowly slid up my chest and rested on my shoulders, and I opened my mouth and deepened the kiss.  Our mouths fit perfectly, and I caught my breath as our lips slid back and forth over each other.  She tasted sweet, and I flicked my tongue out to taste her.  I never went this slowly or carefully with any of the ladies I spent time with; but every moment with Elizabeth was precious, even sacred, and I wanted this first time between us to be beautiful.

 

Which made me think to raise my head and look at her.  Her cheeks were flushed, her lips moist, and when her eyelids fluttered open, her hazel eyes glowed beneath them.  “You are beautiful,” I whispered, and her eyes fluttered closed again.  I bent my knees and picked her up in my arms and laid her down on the bed.  

 

I lay down next to her, feeling as dazed as she looked.  Her short robe had fallen open, and her lovely body was visible to me for the first time.  My hands began to shake and I suddenly felt unworthy to touch her.  But she raised a hand to my face and pulled my head down to hers, and once our lips touched again, I could not have stopped touching her for anything.

 

For a long time we only kissed each other, lips caressing, tongues exploring, playing and experimenting with passionate plundering and teasing tastes.  Her teeth nipped at my bottom lip and I punished her by crushing my mouth to hers so hard our teeth clashed.  She traced my lips with her tongue, and I fought for control of the kiss by forcing her tongue to duel with mine.

 

But I was not content to taste only her lips, and I soon became hungry for the smooth column of her throat and her creamy shoulders.  She cried out as I sucked the skin below her ear, her hands clutching my shoulders as she tried to push my robes off me.  She was naked and writhing beneath me before I had kissed anything below her shoulders, and it was unbearably erotic to see her smooth skin and muscled limbs contrasted to the emerald damask of my robes.  But she was insistent, and the demanding little noises she was making increased my urgency, so I removed my robes and came back down on top of her, skin rubbing against skin.

 

“God, Albus,” she breathed, and hearing her say my name was like lightning in my blood.  “You’re so strong, you’re so beautiful.”  Her hands grasped my upper arms, feeling the muscles, and in that moment I felt strong and powerful.  

 

“Please, Elizabeth, let me taste you,” I murmured as I smoothed my hand over her full bare breasts.  She gasped and arched her back, pressing herself more fully into my hand. I took her roughly into my mouth.  Nothing had ever tasted so good or fit so perfectly, her breasts had been made for my mouth and I suckled harder and harder as she moved more insistently beneath me.  

 

But it wasn’t enough.  I had to know every inch of her, so I slid my open mouth down the crest of her breast and to her firm, flat stomach.  I nibbled down the sides of her torso, causing her to gasp, and I licked across her narrow waist, pausing to circle a ring around her navel.  I licked and tasted lower and lower until I grabbed her hips and sank my teeth into the tender flesh of the curve.  Immediately she turned her body toward me, allowing me to raise one of her legs and taste her most secret places.

 

She was wet and slick and tasted like salt and honey.  I moved slowly, sliding my tongue up and down, trying to keep control while she pushed herself against me. 

 

“Albus, please,” she moaned, her fists grasping the sheets, and hearing her say my name was my undoing.  I planted my hands on either side of her hips and pushed myself forward until her breasts were crushed beneath my chest and my eyes met hers.

 

I fumbled and found her hands, and we grasped each other for all we were worth.  Her legs wrapped around my hips and I thrust forward, sliding into her.  Our hands clung, our eyes held, our bodies joined.  She gasped, and for a moment we were utterly still.  I could not have told you at that moment where one of us ended and the other began.  As one we began to rock, levering against each other’s hands, our movements gathering urgency as she drew closer and I tried to hold back.  I dredged up enough control somehow to watch her thrust against me one last time before she went over, her head thrown back and her mouth open, and then I followed, finally tearing my eyes from her face as I clenched them shut and concentrated on the sensation of finding release inside Elizabeth’s welcoming body.

 

We held each other, sweating and panting, while our bodies recovered.  Our hair was tangled together and stuck against the bare skin of our shoulders, and I watched in fascination as Elizabeth’s elegant fingers stroked it where it clung.

 

“I must stay, Elizabeth,” I muttered against her shoulder.  “I must stay with you.”

 

“Of course you’ll stay,” she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  Indeed, at that moment, it was.

 

In the morning, I held her and studied her face in the early sunlight.  I wanted to ask her again to let me stay, to marry me, to love me.  How could I face life not knowing when I’d see her again, when I’d be with her again?

  

As I thought about these things, my eyes fell upon the trophy she and Filius had won the previous evening, and I knew I could not ask her to give her life to me now.  Who was I to ask her such a thing?  I was nobody, an unemployed, impoverished professional student.  She was a champion, on her way to ultimate success and with very little need for someone who would be more than willing to demand she put me before everything else.  I didn’t even have a livelihood.  I had no way to support her, to care for her or any children we might have.  I wanted to ask her to stay with me, but I couldn’t.  

 

I wonder now if she was waiting for me to ask.  She awoke and kissed me, then made love to me in the morning sunshine.  She didn’t talk much, which was unusual for her, but I felt her eyes on me as we dressed and gathered our things.  

 

I didn’t ask, so she kissed me and left, on to the next city, the next competition, the next prize.  

 

Perhaps the next lover.

 

And I went off to study dragons. 

   


End file.
